Laughter: The Best Medicine
by IX.XV
Summary: The battle is won, Voldemort is dead. But hearts are still broken and need to be mended. Sometimes laughter really is the best medicine. George Weasley and Padme Booth discover that friendship, laughter and love can lead to a happy ending that they couldn't have dreamed of.
1. The End in the Beginning

_**A**_**uthor's _N_ote;** So this chapter is a tad short, it's just more of an introduction/ending start to the story. It just gives you a little bit of insight into how it's all going to work out before you find out the story. Padme Booth is my creation, as are the kids that she and George have together. The Weasley Family, Potter family - well everyone that has appeared in the books/movies/games does not belong to me and will never belong to me. Unless J.K. Rowling is my long lost mother or something? Nah! So with that, let the story begin and hopefully you like it. If you do and you want to review or let me know through PM, feel free to do so. But I'm going to write the story because I want too, and if you don't like it? Then click that little back button you see in the top left hand corner of your browser window. Or push that little X in the top right hand corner of your browser window. I'm not gonna make you read it!

_**S**_**etting;** This is all set after the final battle at Hogwarts. Voldemort is dead, the remaining Death Eaters are being rounded up by the Ministry of Magic. Harry is with Ginny (in more of a supporting/loving capacity after the death of Fred than a relationship situation), Ron and Hermione are together - she is helping him as best she can with the death of Fred. The only relationship I've really messed with is the one that George and Katie Bell eventually enter into. Katie is alive, but she isn't who he ends up with.

**C****hapter _I_nfo;** This chapter takes place circa 2013/2014 at the rebuilt Burrow.

_**D**_**isclaimer; **I do not own any characters seen in any works of the Harry Potter books, movies, games or other licensed franchises. I am simply using them for a little creative outlet that you all happen to be reading. I am not profiting from their use, or from this work of fiction either. The only characters I lay any claim to are the ones not found in the franchise. In this chapter the list is as follows; Padme Booth-Weasley, Winifred Weasley, Georgia Weasley, Heera Weasley, Ela Weasley, Serena Weasley and Arthur Weasley the Second.

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"_And do you Mr. George Weasley take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?" Kingsley looked over the pair before him, waiting for an answer from George. The bride – who looked splendind in her white dress reached out and smacked her husband-to-be upside the head with a resound thwack._

"_You'd better be keen on answering sometime soon Georgie-boy." George had been looking at her in all her white dress glory and both marveling at the beauty (and wondering how his mother had gotten her into that thing since she'd always sworn she'd never wear white) of her and the wonder that she would be his wife in a matter of moments._

"_I do." Smiling at her, he gave her a slight wink before looking to Kingsley with a 'get a move on it' kind of a look. Kingsley sighed and turned to look at the glowering bride who was smiling behind her glower._

"_And do you Miss Padme Booth take this man to be your lawful wedded husband? You sure you want to? No one would blame you if you didn't!" It was all in jest and everyone knew as such, laughing at the joke as Padme turned as red under her complexion as she possibly could._

"_I do – now get on with it!"_

"Wait, Grandma!" The youngest Weasley grandchild piped up from her spot in her grandmother's lap. Molly was holding the photo album of George and Padme's wedding and reception in her left hand as she put her right on the little girl's head. Molly had gotten older over the past six years, but her red hair was still as bright and she looked down at what could've been her own reflection years ago when she was a child.

"Yes Winifred?" But of course it was not Winifred she was looking at, it was her minutes older twin sister Georgia.

"I'm not Winnie! I'm Georgie. Honestly Grandma? Can't you tell your own grand-kids apart?" Molly put the photo album down and scooped both Georgia and Winifred into a tight hug as she had a flashback of Fred and George – whom the girls were named after – when they were young. Always bothering her about the fact that they were identical and she _once_ confused the two.

"Sorry Georgie."

"I'm only joking! I am Winnie!" Molly should have known it was coming. She glowered at Winnie with a disapproving patented Grandma stare before smiling at the girls who were looking at each other mischievously. "Very funny Winnie, what do you need dear?"

"Well Heera, Ela and Serena were making fun of us cause we don't know how Mom and Dad met. So we wondered if you'd tell us Grandma." Molly laughed a little at the girls. Winnie and Georgie were only eight years old. No one could blame them for not knowing how Padme and George had met.

"Well Heera, Ela and Serena are for years older than you are girls, so don't be too worried about it. But yes, I'll tell you. And don't let your sisters bother you, they only found out when they were your age too." Putting the album down on the table beside the couch she adjusted herself better on the couch as the two girls bickered about whether their brother Arthur knew at all. Molly couldn't recall ever tell Arthur, but she couldn't very well ask him. Arthur and the girls were at Hogwarts. Arthur starting his first year and the triplets were starting their second year. It was only the second week of term. _'I wonder how many owls Padme has gotten already about the kids. I usually had five or six by now…'_

"Grandma? Are you gonna tell us!?" Georgie practically whined at her Grandmother with a pleading look.

"Yes dear, just let me get myself another cup of tea." Molly waved her wand and took the small cup of tea that appeared before her. She took a sip before putting it down beside the photo album. "Alright girls, get comfortable. Now, do you know where your Mom and Dad went to school?"

"HOGWARTS!" The resounding bellow of excitement would have knocked poor Molly off her feet if she were standing. Old Errol in the corner fell off his perch – although that was getting more and more common as the days passed – with a small _'hoo!'_

"No need to yell girls, but yes. Hogwarts. Your mother was two years ahead of your father. I believe she used to call him a pain in her…" Thinking better of telling the girls exactly what their mother often called their father she simply cleared her throat and kept going. "Well, anyway! Your Uncle Percy actually had a crush on her. Used to follow her around and tell her all about his Prefects badge."

"Prefect? Eww! Mom didn't like that did she?" Molly laughed and shook her head.

"No, no she didn't. She used to call him…you know girls your mother really has some colorful language." The girls giggled and turned as red as their hair.

"We know, you should hear some of the things she calls Dad when he brings mud into the house." Molly could only imagine. Padme was a very colorful person. Her father was a sailor, so that was probably how she ended up with such a colorful vocabulary at her disposal.

"Winnie, Georgie. Don't ever repeat the words you hear your mother say to your father when he brings mud in." Although Molly had called George a fair few names when he'd done it at the Burrow. "Now then, where was I? Oh yes! Well they both went to Hogwarts and didn't spend any time together. Actually I don't think they met until after the final battle…" Molly would spend the next several hours telling her youngest grandchildren the story of how their parents had met.


	2. Damsel in Distress

_**A**_**uthors **_**N**_**ote; **So this is the chapter 2 of LTBM, and it actually is longer almost triple the size of chapter 1. It is really the start of the story to be honest. This would be the first meeting, so away we go!

_**D**_**isclaimer; **I own nothing in this chapter except for Padme Booth and her younger sister Madison. All other places and characters belong to J.K. Rowling...unless she wants to adopt me?

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_**June 2nd, 1998.  
Diagon Alley, London.**_

June 2nd was rolling around and Padme was still wide awake. She hadn't been sleeping well. She hadn't been sleeping since Voldemort had returned really. She'd crash for a few hours and then wake up in a cold sweat. Just waiting for the Death Eaters to come knocking at her door. They had only done it once, and they hadn't knocked. They'd blasted the door open with a well-cast spell. She had been just leaving the kitchen of her tiny house when they'd come. She'd also been babysitting her baby sister Madison. Madison was only two years old at the time and had been terrified. Had she not been an extremely well trained Security Witch by the Goblins at Gringotts, she and her sister might not have gotten away.

Rolling over in bed she shuffled around under the covers, even going so far as to put a pillow over her head. It was 3 am and she hadn't slept a wink. It was also the first month anniversary since the battle had been waged and won. Many were still mourning their dead, or trying to find their dead…some were even still looking for their living. Well, if it was 3 am – for some reason the magic number – she wasn't going to get sleep anytime soon. Crawling out of her bed from the foot of it she managed to drag herself over the foot board, despite the attack of the covers.

Falling on her face she huffed, sending the hair that was in her face flying to land in errant directions. She peeked through the fringe of her hair to see her cat basically snickering at her. The lazy calico chuffed once at her and then licked a paw before cleaning its face. Crawling into a push-up position she glared at the cat.

"Shut up Lady – you always land on your feet." She crawled on hands and knees to the bathroom where she used the sink to pull herself into a standing position. She was not looking forward to the view of herself in the bathroom mirror. Just as she suspected. Her complexion was somewhat sallow in the mirror and her face was drawn. She looked exhausted. Her hair was a rat's nest of tangles and knots that forced her mid-back length hair to stand on end. Grabbing her brush she began to drag it through her tangled hair. It took a few minutes, but eventually her chocolate brown hair was restored to its normal rich beauty of large loose curls – one of the few things she could ascribe to her father's looks. She looked nothing like him outside of her hair. She looked exactly like her mother. All chocolate skin, sparkling brown eyes, sharp features and a wicked smile.

Her father used to tell her that when she smiled, her mother that is, that she could light up a room and that Padme was exactly like that. She didn't really believe him, but he tried. She pulled on a pair of dark wash jeans and a soft pink tank-top, over which she put an only half buttoned up white shirt. Her wand was tucked safely into her wrist holster – standard issue for Security Personnel at Gringgotts – as she exited her flat. It was one of three, though the previous other tenants hadn't returned yet. She wasn't even sure Madame Malkin's was open yet. She knew it was going to open, that was who she paid rent too. It was a nice one bedroom, one and a half bathroom flat that she'd outfitted with her more comfy than stylish furniture – much to her stepmother's horror – and littered with pictures and nick-knacks in bright colors and odd shapes. But it was close to Gringotts so she was easily able to pick up extra shifts.

She'd taken a week off to rest. She'd been working triple shifts thanks to all the no-shows and missing personnel. She'd been a touch sad to learn about Griphook's death. She was probably one of the few people, Goblin or Wizard, which he liked. Looking up and down the street, she wasn't exactly sure where to go or what to do. It was 3 am for Merlin's sake!

"Guess I'll take a wander down the road…" She began to hum to herself a little as she walked. There were still a few Dark Wizards and Witches roaming around the place, Knockturn Alley especially so. But she wasn't too worried. The Ministry had as much personnel as they could spare roaming the Alley – and what good was all her training and work experience if she wasn't going to be able to defend herself? She passed a few of the usual suspects. Thieves and pilfers, or purveyors as they liked to call themselves. Her walk led her to Number 93, Diagon Alley. Where a very large red headed man was waving his top hat with a large smile on his face. The hat would come down, then it would lift and suddenly a bunny would be sitting on the man's head. The next time? Nothing!

"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes? Well I love a good joke as much as the next girl!" Okay, so she probably loved them more. The lights were on and the door was slightly open. She was wary as she entered the shop, but somewhat excited too. Be it for a fight or for a laugh. She liked both. A small firework went off above her head as she entered. She assumed to scare customers and cause a laugh from other patrons as well. A clever replace of the bell honestly.

"We're closed." A very sullen voice rang out from above her. She looked up to see a red haired man – who looked much like the figure outside – sitting on the stairs. He looked broken at the very core.

"Sorry, the lights were on and I love a good laugh, so I figured I'd come in." She was about to leave, but the look on his face stopped her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I guess." He huffed a large sigh and went back to lazily playing with the Pygmy Puff that was sitting on his shoulder, the bouncing off to eat a spider and then coming back to jump onto his shoulder again.

"You're fine? You guess? Those two phrases should never go together." He looked away from the Pygmy Puff to glance at Padme.

"What's it to you?" She could see now that he had turned to face her fully as she came fully into the shop that there was a dark hole on the side of his head where his ear must have once been. He'd styled his hair so that it hung over the hole, but she'd caught a glimpse of it.

"Well you see Mr…?" She searched for a name that he was helpful enough to provide her with.

"George Weasley." She was now standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the railing. Even if one of the spindles had turned into a snake and tried to bite at her ankle. She'd given the little thing a boot for good measure after she'd dodged it.

"Mr. George Weasley. Well you see Mr. George Weasley, I am the official Diagon Alley Smile Police – therefore you must smile in my presence for at least a full 37 seconds. Or I will be forced to place you under arrest and begin to tickle you until you nearly wet yourself with laughter." She sounded so official and serious that it brought a smile to George's face as he began to chuckle slightly. "Ah! So you've heard of me then? Well then. Keep smiling bub. 23 seconds left….8…done! Now you may continue to frown, pout and generally feel horrible."

"And how did you know that was what I was doing?" She took a few steps towards him, standing still a good five or six steps below him and gazed into his face long and hard before answering.

"That face you're wearing? I wore that one for a year straight when my mother died. I know it well." That gave him pause.

"I'm sorry for your…" She cut him off with a raised hand and moved to sit beside him on the stair. She was quickly joined by the Pygmy Puff that had been on his shoulder.

"If you didn't kill her, then don't apologize. My mother died doing something she believed in, so I have to think that maybe she died happy in some sort of twisted way." She patted his knee with her hand, a kind smile on her face. "So. Do you want to tell me what has got you so down, out and sick?"

He gave in to her easy kind smile, and the fact that she'd made him laugh. Something he hadn't thought he'd ever be able to do again since Fred had died. It was a terrible joke, the one she'd made, but it had gotten something in him to liven up again. And for that? He felt the need to tell her.

"My twin brother, he died last month at the Battle of Hogwarts." He was instantly enveloped in a hug that caught him by surprise. She wrapped her arms around him and held him. It took him so by surprise that he was a statue for a moment, before leaning into her hug and beginning to silently cry.

The shop had been the only place he'd been able to just sit. His mother kept trying to smother him with attention. Probably in an attempt to forget about the fact that one of her sons was dead. His brothers just kept looking at him like they knew what he was going through – and they didn't. Yes they had lost their brother. But he? He had lost his twin. The other half of him. His Dad was still broken somewhere inside himself, and hadn't quite managed to dig his way back up yet. Ginny was the only one he never saw. She was spending all her time with Harry. He didn't begrudge her that, Harry was obviously able to help her cope in a way that her family couldn't. Just like this woman, this "Smile Officer" as she called herself, was doing for him.

She felt his tears hitting her arm through her sleeve, but she didn't care. She just let him cry. Her stepmother's older sister was a twin. She'd died of some kind of cancer. Her twin – the one that survived – had killed herself only 2 months after the fact. Hadn't been able to live without her other half. While she'd never met either of the women, not being extremely close with her stepmother, she knew the detrimental effects the death of a family member, especially a twin, could have on a person. So she let him cry silently, and made no mention of it. Best not to embarrass him. He was getting some kind of release, and she didn't want to stop that. Didn't want to stop him from getting that out.

She wasn't sure how long they sat there. 5 minutes, maybe 5 hours. Everything became a blur of time and silence as she sat there holding the man she had just met and barely knew. Letting him cry, and only hearing the occasional sniffle as he did so. When he finally stopped crying and pulled away from her – which she let him do without resistance – she pulled a small handkerchief out of her pocket and offered it to him.

He looked at it quizzically as he took it and wiped at his face. "Why are you carrying a handkerchief?" She shrugged at him.

"My father always insisted on having one in his pocket, and always insisted I have one too. He used to tell me 'You never know when you'll meet a damsel in distress.' Which always seemed a bit odd to me. I was four – I was sure I'd be the damsel in distress at the top of the tower. I don't know, letting down my long hair or something." She laughed slightly, causing him to smile. He could very easily imagine this woman as a little girl trying to convince her father that she was a damsel in distress.

"Well here I am. Your damsel in distress!" He cleared his throat and began to speak in an excellent imitation of his sister's voice. "Romeo, Romeo. Where for art thou Romeo? Shall I let down my long hair…and something as sweet as a rose…" He shook his head with a large grin. "I don't really know how the story goes. Something about a horny guy and a depressed girl…she fakes it – like all women do – he kills himself…and then she kills herself or something. Or does she marry the other guy at the end?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about Mr. George Weasley!" They fell into silence only broken up by their slight laughter at the scene that had just taken place. After a minute or so she stood. "Well, I should probably get going. I've got a lot of things to do and so little time to do it." She patted his knee kindly before walking down the stairs. He stood and followed her a few steps.

"Thank you." He took a moment to actually look at the woman who had – without knowing him – been so very kind. She was pretty, kind of exotic looking for what was found normally in Diagon Alley. Dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes that sparkled when she smiled or laughed. She had a British accent so he was a tad surprised he hadn't seen her in Diagon Alley before. Or maybe she'd just never come into the shop. Either way, she'd be the one person who'd truly helped him.

She turned back to him with a smile. She was about ready to leave the shop, but she just couldn't leave yet. "You're welcome. I'm glad I was finally able to find and help my damsel in distress." She offered him a small wave before setting out to leave the shop. He caught her arm as she stepped onto Diagon Alley.

"Wait. You've been so nice and helpful, and I don't even know you're name." She gently pulled her arm from his grasp and smiled with a twinkle in her eye, just before apparating.

"Just call me Romeo. And George? No matter how sad you are, just keep smiling. Your brother would want it that way." With a small pop she was gone.


	3. Goblins and Grievances

**A****uthor's **_**N**_**ote; **So here is another chapter, this one took a while. I've been sick for the last little bit, so if it seems a bit choppy or unorganized, I apologize. But I figured this was better than anything else I was going to do while I have this head-cold.

_**D**_**isclaimer; **I own Padme Booth, nobody else. Well - and Lady. She's based off my real cat, so trust me I own and suffer for that one.

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_**November 3rd, 1999.**_

_**Diagon Alley, London.**_

"George will you stop fussing? We need to get this suit just right for Harry and Ginny's wedding!" Molly threw her hands up in frustration at George who was driving her insane. He'd been fidgeting for the past ten minutes, making it impossible for her to do what she needed to do. He began to fidget again, scratching at the material of his suit for the umpteenth time. "George Weasley!" He stopped and peered at her.

"Yes Mum?" He was still scratching. She turned and stomped off to the kitchen with a huff and began to very aggressively wash the dishes with her wand. Even going so far as to smash one of the plates which she repaired, again very aggressively. "Mum?"

"You and your fidgeting George! I can't take it. I refuse to do anymore of your alterations. Go to Diagon Alley and get yourself a new one. This one doesn't fit anyway. I've got to start on Ginny's wedding dress." Casting a superstitious glance at the giant puff of white material sitting in the corner of the living room like a demon waiting to attack, he nodded at his mom and took off to put on his normal clothes. No way was he sticking around for another round of Molly Weasley versus the stubborn wedding dress. He was pretty sure it was cursed.

"Bye Mum! I'll be back in time for dinner!" With a pop he apparated out of the Burrow to Diagon Alley. Molly smiled as he left. She was glad he was gone, now she could work on that wedding dress. She couldn't believe Ginny was finally getting married. It was sudden, but with Ginny going off to play for the Hollyhead Harpies, she could understand why Ginny and Harry wanted to do it.

George popped into Diagon Alley with a sigh of relief. Thank god he was free of his mother's crazy poking and trimming. Trying to fix his suit so that it would fit him. The suit had barely fit him for Bill and Fleur's wedding, and he hadn't gotten a new one because there had been no time. He was kind of looking forward to spending some of his hard earned money on himself. Since he'd re-opened the shop he had done fairly well. 'Romeo' had been right. Laughter was good. So he'd pulled himself together and re-opened the shop so people could find some time in their day to laugh. At first, his sales had been terrible. People had just come in to gaze at everything and smile. But slowly, ever so slowly, things were getting better. Good enough that he'd been able to buy himself a few things. He had his own owl now, and he was going to buy himself a new suit.

Walking into Madame Malkins he was stunned to walk smack into the woman he hadn't seen in over a year. He caught her as she nearly toppled over. Now standing he realized she was only about five feet three inches…maybe four? But he'd recognized her. Hell, he still had her handkerchief in his pocket. He was hoping to give it back to her at some point. Despite the fact that he didn't know her name. Except that it started with a P, and her last name started with a B. It was monogramed.

"Where for art thou Romeo." He grinned down at the little woman who gave him the most puzzled look possible.

"Excuse me?" Looking up it took her a second to place his face. Until he grinned, and then she recognized him. He looked exactly like the giant statue of himself, well plus an ear, at the joke shop just down the way. "Mr. Weasley! Right. Good to see you again." She genuinely grinned at the man, happy to see him looking better than he had the last time they'd met. Though for the life of her she couldn't actually remember his name. "I'm sorry, I don't actually remember your first name…" She felt bad, but she wouldn't apologize. They'd met for all of maybe 45 minutes. How was she supposed to remember the man's name?

"George. You never actually gave me your name."

"Romeo will do." She smiled at him, which he returned, and hoped he didn't push it. She didn't like to give out her name to men that she'd just met. Even if it was a second meeting. Her mother and her step-mother had been married to the first man they gave their names too. Call it superstitious, but she didn't want that life.

"Well then Romeo. Where have you been? I haven't seen you since that day in the shop." He took a seat to wait for Madam Malkin to be available for him – there were three others before him so he suspected a decent wait time – and motioned for Padme to join him. That she was willing to do.

"The Goblins sent me off to Egypt to help with some tombs. Mummies kept trying to attack and bandage up a few of our Goblins."

"So you work at Gringotts?" That was interesting. Most witches and wizards were afraid to work there after the final battle. Most of the Goblins were still a little angry over what had happened and how they had been treated.

"Mhm. I think I might be one of the last ones from before that bloody ass showed up. I like those little buggers, they're good people. Even if they aren't people." George looked at her, trying to figure her out. Most women were easy for him to figure out. He'd known enough of them at school, spent time with his mother and his sister…women? Usually an easy thing for him. But this one – she was confusing him.

"Good people? I think they might take your rings off your fingers before accepting that compliment." She shrugged, not exactly pleased with his attitude about the Goblins. Even if you couldn't call them people per say, and they weren't exactly nice – they were the closest thing to friends she had other than her much younger sister. And playing dress-up and dollies, wasn't exactly her idea of an adult friendship.

"Just like all the rest." She snorted somewhat derisively and turned to fold the already folded bag of new dress robes over again in the other direction. She was hoping not to wrinkle them, and folding them more than they already were, probably wasn't the best bet. But what was she supposed to say now?

George's brow furrowed under his mop of long red hair. "Pardon?" She turned to look at him and simply shook her head before standing and turning to leave. He followed her as she exited the shop. He wasn't sure how he'd done it, but he had offended her. And that was not his intention. He actually wanted to get to know the girl some. She'd been somehow supportive in a way his family hadn't been able to be.

"Wait just a second. Did I do something to offend you?"

"Offend me? No. Just the people that I work with and consider the closest thing to friends and that in my opinion are better than half the witches and wizards I know." She paused for a moment to shrug slightly. "Alright, maybe you did offend me a little. But the point still applies."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend your or insult them." He kept following her as she turned to walk away from him again. She stopped to turn and look at him with narrowed eyes and a cold expression.

"No, of course not. You, like most witches and wizards just think that they have no feelings, just because they tend to care more about their gold and baubles then actual interaction. Did you ever stop to think that maybe, they don't care about us because most of us aren't worth caring about? Maybe it is us that need to change, not them." Okay, so she got a tad carried away. But he was pissing her off. She was also hungry, as an afterthought it occurred to her that that might have had something to do with why she was being so mean and taking something like a simple understanding and blowing it up into epic proportions.

"Wow…okay that was a lot more than I thought I'd get. Umm, not sure how to take that honestly." He had stopped following her and was considering backing away. She'd kind of flipped her lid on him, although some part of him told him he probably deserved it.

"Take it however you like, but I would appreciate if you would keep your negative opinions about the Goblins to yourself." She didn't wait for him to say anything before disappearing around a corner. He was too shocked to follow her. Heading back into Madam Malkin's he saw that the line had grown that much longer since he'd left.

"Great."

Padme was infuriated by that man. What gave him the right to say things like that about Goblins? He didn't hear her pointing out that if she went by what people said about gingers, then he had no soul. Or alternatively that he had a soul, one freckle for every soul he'd taken from unsuspecting children. Okay, so she added that last part about unsuspecting children herself – but the point was still valid!

She started to head for Gringott's, having only been at Madam Malkin's to pick up a dress to go to a wedding that she'd been invited to by her friend, and former colleague, Fleur Delacour.

'_Or is it Fleur Weasley now? I can't quite remember – oh bloody hell!'_ It had just occurred to her that she had been invited by Fleur to her sister-in-law's wedding (in an attempt to get her to go out more). The wedding was for Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. Weasley, bloody, Weasley! She was going to be attending a wedding with that insufferable man and his entire family. Fleur would be the only decent one out of the bunch as far as she was concerned. She'd known Fleur before she'd gotten married, they'd been good friends actually. Although the accent had been a bit of an issue in the beginning.

She proceeded to stomp up the steps to her flat, and nearly broke her wand opening the door. She didn't believe in keys. Why have a key when someone could just _Alohomora _the bloody thing and have it open? So she put an actual locking charm on the door. The force of her spell caused her door to open with such a rush and a bang that Lady – her beautiful if not evil calico – jumped onto the counter. A place she only went when Madison was visiting.

"Sorry Lady." The feline cast a scowl of contempt in her direction. She half wondered if the cat even liked her at all, or if she just stuck around for the food and ear scratches. "Don't look at me like that. You'd be in a foul mood too if you had to go to a wedding with someone you've decided you don't like." The cat continued to scowl at her. Padme waved her off and moved into her living room to sit.

"How would you feel if you had to spend all day with Madison?" While the cat's expression didn't change, she could almost feel the change in attitude. "Yeah, exactly." Moments later an owl began to tap at her window. That surprised her since she never got letters…from anyone. Lady was at the window in a second, swatting at the window trying to get to the little owl.

Opening the window, the owl then proceeded to enter, barely missing a swipe from the cat which was very nearly grumbling on the window sill. The owl was given a treat and a head pat before it disappeared out the window again. "Wonder what this is." She opened the letter only to throw it down with a huff reminiscent of a petulant child. "How does she always know!?" The letter was her worst nightmare.

_Padme,_

_The wedding is Sunday – and you need to be here for noon. It's going to start early and then go late. You are not allowed to leave before at least 10pm! If you are not here by 12:02 I am coming after you and you will not like it. So, __**DO NOT EVEN THINK OF NOT SHOWING UP! YOU ARE COMING TO THIS WEDDING IF I HAVE TO DRAG YOU HERE BY YOUR HAIR!**_

_Love,_

_Fleur_

Padme knew better than to argue with Fleur. She'd go. She didn't have much choice at that point, Fleur was covering her ass this time. Glaring at the letter like it had bitten her, she crossed her arms and glanced at the package she'd gotten from Madam Malkin's. "Well, at least I have a nice dress to wear."


	4. Champagne

_**A**_**uthor's _N_ote;** So sorry this took so long to get up everybody - but there were some family emergencies that needed to be dealt with. Everything is good again, so hopefully I can keep the wait time down in the future.

**_D_isclaimer; **I own nothing you recognize. I own Padme and any unfamiliar/new information into the Harry Potter world.

**_I_nfo; **If you haven't already, I would strongly suggest going to my profile and following the URL to the photobucket album dedicated to this story. There you will find a picture of how I imagine Padme, outfits for the wedding, and even the way her flat looks. If you don't feel inclined to do so, then use your imagination!

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_**Sunday, November 7**__**th**__**, 1999**_

_**The Burrow**_

At exactly 12:02 pm Padme apparated to the front step of the Burrow. She'd debated waiting until 12:03 to see what would happen. But at 12:01 she had distinctly remembered being pulled by her hair to the staff party for Gringotts the last time she had been late. She wasn't about to repeat that, Merlin her scalp still hurt from the experience. So she had arrived as late as she possibly could without risking the wrath of Fleur and her devilish grip. Maybe it was the Veela in her that made her such a good cat fighter…

Padme pushed the thoughts from her head as she entered the open door which had a small sign stating that all coming to the wedding should just come in and head out the back to the tents where the wedding was going to take place. Passing through the house she couldn't help but smile at all the pictures that were littered around the walls and on the tables. Just about every available space was taken up by a picture or some family knick knack. Once she made it outside she was nearly smothered by Fleur who was hugging her suddenly.

"I am so glad you came, I was just about to come and get you." Fleur released her only to kiss both of her cheeks. It was very French, and even after all the time that they had been friends, it still bothered her. Generally she wasn't a fan of the French or their food, but Fleur was the exception.

"You very nearly threatened my life in your letter. I wasn't about to risk my scalp again!" She smiled at her friend and hugged her once more. She rarely saw Fleur anymore now that she was married and still – it seemed to Padme anyway – enjoying the honeymoon period of her marriage. The two of them hardly left their cabin as far as she could tell. Often took days sometimes weeks for Fleur to reply to an owl. Which was fine with Padme. Who was she to say anything?

"Oh pish posh you silly dear. I wouldn't have pulled too hard. Come, come now. I have to go back inside and help Molly and Ginny, but I'll be back soon enough. Mingle. Go see Bill, or Ron, or give your congratulations to Harry. Poor dear, looks a fright with nerves!" With a small wave and a flash of blue silk, Fleur was gone. Padme stood there in her yellow and gray sari with a completely dazed look on her face. She stood for a moment before moving towards the tents, shaking her head slightly to shake off the confusion that her friend had left her in.

She bumped into poor Harry and nearly toppled him over. He caught her and was helpful enough to right her on her feet. "You OK?" She smiled kindly at the poor guy who – as Fleur had accurately described – looked terribly fearful. She nodded in answer to his question and turned to the table next to them to grab a glass which she quickly filled with water with a small wave of her wand.

"I'm fine Harry – maybe I should be asking you that. You look as if you are going to faint." He moved to put the glass down but she shook her head and tipped the bottom up a bit towards his face. "No, no. Drink up. If you don't you probably will faint when Ginny walks down the aisle. Everyone would be worried and there I would be shaking my head telling the person sitting next to me that if you had listened to me, none of this would have happened." He grinned and did as told, chugging about half of the glass of water with a single gulp.

"Thanks. I'm sorry, I don't actually know your name. You seem to know mine though – so you have me a bit disadvantaged." Padme shook the extended hand that was offered to her.

"Everyone knows your name dear, you've been on the cover of the Daily Prophet more times than I imagine is proper. I'm Padme Booth. A friend of Fleur's from her days at Gringotts." Letting go of his hand she moved quickly out of the way of a pair of red-heads moving a few tables around in the tent.

"You work at Gringotts? I thought only Goblins worked there." Well at least he hadn't insulted her Goblin co-workers. Perhaps Fleur – or George – had warned everyone about her feelings on the subject. She would admit that they were perfectly unpleasant little beings, but they did have feelings and rights. Even if most of their feelings were about money, gold, jewelry and expensive weapons, as were most of the rights they claimed to have. She nodded, taking a sip of her own water that she'd conjured moments ago.

"Yes. As a Security Witch. There have always been Security Witches and Wizards at Gringotts for the private rooms at Gringotts when depositing larger items or opening new accounts. When Voldemort started his reign of terror, more of us were recruited to try and keep the attack of the Goblins by his forces to a minimum. We were most successful…at least on bank premises." She felt a moment of something akin to sadness at the loss of Griphook. She had stopped being sad a long time ago, but she could still pause in remembrance of the little terror couldn't she? "All in all, we're back in the back rooms again. Some of us are on vault duty though, to stop another break-in like the one you pulled." She gave him a look and he had the grace to blush slightly.

"Well it was for a good reason." He spoke sheepishly and began to rub the back of his neck. Poor boy looked as if he was beginning to sweat all over again. She gave him a kind smile, hoping to calm him down a bit.

"I completely agree with you Harry – don't worry. But your break-in made the Goblins realize just how ill-equipped the lower vaults are from break-ins should someone make their way past all the other pitfalls, which as you proved is obviously possible. Difficult, but possible none the less." They stood in silence for a moment, her sipping her water and Harry finishing the last half of his water in another large gulp.

"So which vault are you guarding? Or are you not in the vaults?" She shook her head, swallowing the sip of water she'd just taken. Timing, the boy had timing.

"No, no it is okay to ask. I'm able to talk about what vaults I guard, just not how I guard them or how they are opened."

"Able? You mean you can't talk about everything else?" She shook her head again.

"All of us are paired with another witch or wizard that works top-level and we, by Gringotts contract, have to cast a spell on each other. No one outside of one Goblin knows which employee is paired with another, and he doesn't know any other pair then our own. We cast a spell that will make it physically impossible to tell anyone where the vault is located, how it is guarded or how it is opened, and one to stop us from revealing our partner. They cast one on me, I cast one on them which limits their ability to tell anyone what the spell they cast on me is or where I am posted. Even my name, they can't speak." Harry looked completely perplexed and interested. As if she was teaching him some complex transfiguration or something of the sort. "The Goblin that paired us is the only one that knows we were paired together and never works with us."

"Sounds complicated."

"It is, but it is a better system then we had in place before. Besides, it takes a special kind of person to not mind being underground for 8 hours at a time. Not everyone can do it. Hence why we have top-level security personnel, and why we have vault-level security personnel. As for me, I'm down at the bottom, guarding a few business vaults. Can't tell you their names though."

"Really? So you physically can't say the words?" She nodded affirmatively.

"Or spell them. Listen." She opened her mouth and attempted to say the name 'Ollivander's' but all that came out was some messed up sound that made her seem like a simpleton really. "See? I really lower my perceived intelligence level when I do that…" She paused, her brows furrowing for a moment as she thought about that. Harry laughed, putting a hand on her shoulder with a grin.

"Don't worry Padme, no one will hear that from me!"

"Better not!" She looked him over fully now. He looked quite handsome behind his glasses, with his suit on. Although she had to admit she had never mooned over him as other girls had, but she found him quite handsome in that moment. Ginny was a lucky girl. "Alright Harry, get to your place. I think we are starting soon." She shooed him with a hand towards the end of the aisle where Kingsley Shacklebolt had indeed taken his place. Seating herself on the groom's side in support of Harry especially she gave him a thumbs up.

Moments later the music started and people scrambled to sit down in time. Ginny appeared at the entrance of the tent, a vision in her dress. Her hair was done up in a way that left about half of it down, and it shone a beautiful auburn color. As Ginny was walking down the aisle, Padme turned to look at Harry. He looked so happy. The wedding proceeded without a hitch and the vows each other said were beautiful. Padme was almost in tears during their vows, but she managed to hold herself back. After the wedding, the reception began and they all moved to a much larger tent.

Everyone was seating themselves according to their name tags on their plates, and Padme was at a loss. She wasn't family, so she wasn't sure where she was going to be seated. She hoped it wouldn't be the kids table. She was quickly saved, and just as quickly ushered over to a table to sit between Fleur – Bill being on the other side of Fleur – and Merlin's beard…George. She had managed to avoid him through most of the wedding, only having to endure his presence for a few moments here and there. Which was probably his good fortune seeing as she was still fairly unhappy with him. It was also not her good fortune, it was her bad karma, bad joo-joo. Whatever you wanted to call it, she was being punished for something she'd done.

She just wasn't sure what it was she had done to offend the universe. Luckily it seemed that despite sitting side by side and occasionally bumping elbows or touching hands as they ate their lunch, he was in no mood to talk to her either. So she was safe. Although she did begin to get into the spirit a little and started to drink some champagne. While it was better than Fire Whiskey – it was still going to get her drunk. Which she knew, but she was really getting into the festive and happy spirit. "So Padme, when are you going to come by the cabin again?" Padme grimaced at the thought.

"When are you two going to start wearing clothes at the cabin again?" Fleur sighed, rolling her eyes at her friend. Bill felt it was only right of him to speak up, considering his nudity was in question at the moment.

"Clothes? Wait, Padme. You were in the house when I was naked?" While normally it wouldn't bother him, his scars extended a lot further than just his face. So he was somewhat nervous to know that a woman that he was only just getting to know had seen him naked.

"You've got quite the cute bottom sir." She grinned at his shocked look before reaching for his hand with a comforting smile. "I'm kidding Bill. No, it was Fleur's bottom I spotted in the kitchen that day when I showed up outside. While attractive dear, not quite by taste. Which reminds me, for your birthday this year Bill – I'm sending you guys curtains." She said it with a smile and a large amount of mirth in her eyes, but it was extremely clear that she was not kidding.

"They had best not be hideous!" Padme swatted at her friend good-naturedly.

"Just because you don't like my curtains, does not mean that they are hideous!" She began to laugh – probably a bit more than was needed, but she was drunk so what the hell! – and leaned back into George Weasley, who it seemed was also a bit drunk. Point in fact, all of the Weasley men were getting themselves rather wasted on all manner of alcoholic beverages. Seemed that Ginny getting married was having a bigger impact on the men than they would have liked to have admitted.

"So sorry George!" Fleur began to reach for Padme, but George was there first helping sit the poor girl upright as she giggled a bit.

"Hello again Romeo. In a better mood this time?" Fleur and Bill looked at George as if he had grown another head, or perhaps another ear would've been a better description. Both of them proceeded to ask – which went unanswered – who Romeo was.

"I do rightly believe I am sir!" She by now had spun in her seat to face him now and waved her half full flute of champagne at him with a decidedly lopsided and drunken grin. "Champagne!" She said in way of answer to the look on his face.

"Champagne." He was a slightly less chipper drunk then she was, but still fairly upbeat. She on the other hand, was putting her glass down and was now tugging at his arm to try and get him to stand up and dance with her. Something she had refused to do – even when Harry asked her to dance – but was now adamant that she wanted to do. "Alright, I'm coming. Bloody pushy woman!" She hauled him onto the dance floor with a grin and a small twirl. She was surprisingly graceful for being drunk off her ass.

It was nearing midnight and Fleur and Bill were seated at their table simply watching the last few couples on the dance floor. Bill was drunk and Fleur was exhausted. Ron and Hermione were dancing together, Ginny and Harry had left hours ago for their honeymoon, Molly and Arthur were dancing together like they were young again, Charlie and his date had left only moments previous, Percy was dancing with one of the women Ginny had invited from her team. Fleur thought her name might have been Annabeth or something of the like. She couldn't quite remember at that point. Glancing around the room, she looked for Padme and George who had been the best of friends all night it seemed.

"Bill, where is George? And Padme?" Fleur was fairly concerned that Padme was pummeling George into a shallow grave somewhere for how he had pissed her off the other day, and also for how he had pissed her off that night. The two had, had three fights in the span of a couple hours. Although calling them a couple was not quite the right term for it. They had just been dancing together right? Fleur quickly closed her eyes, putting a hand to her forehead. She was too tired for this right now. "Bill, please tell me I did not just see what I think I saw?"

Bill looked and began to laugh loudly until his wife smacked his arm. He was then able to quiet it down to a muffled chuckle that sounded half like a cough. "Sorry dear, you saw what you saw. George and Padme sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" He didn't get to finish as Fleur smacked him upside the head with a fair amount of strength. She hissed at him and he could see he'd pushed her a little too far. Even in his inebriated state, he was not stupid enough to think that pushing a part Veela that was also his wife over the edge was a good idea. "Sorry."

Padme and George were pressed impossibly close against each other in a corner, with the folds of fabric from the tent surrounding them so they were in their own little world. Only their feet and the bottom of her sari were visible from their hide-out. Besides, most of the party was either gone or too drunk to realize what was going on in their little corner. Padme had begun to sober up a little bit, but only a little bit. It seemed to be the same with George. They had enough coordination to stand pressed against each other in very small quarters, but they lacked much more than that.

Somewhere in the back of her mind Padme knew she was doing something she shouldn't be doing, but the forefront of her mind couldn't be bothered to care. She pulled away from George for air, and it was long enough for her very drunken, very impulsive and possibly stupid brain to speak. "My place?" One nod from George and the two were gone. Their apparition wasn't very well done, but neither one of them got splinched in the process, so it all seemed okay. As they left, Padme was sure she heard Fleur yelling at her, but she couldn't be sure. Moments later, they were in her locked apartment. With no one except that cat to bother them.


	5. Fell Over & Hung Over

_**A**_**uthor's _N_ote;** Well don't I feel like the bad author that should be smacked with a book...I thought this had already uploaded and apparently it hadn't. So you can expect the next chapter after this quite soon. Again - so sorry guys!

_**D**_**isclaimer; **I do not own anything you have seen in the Harry Potter universe. The only things I own are the things that came out of my own mind.

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They may have managed to apparate into the flat without splinching themselves, but that didn't mean they did so gracefully. They tumbled over one another, tripping over feet and the length of her sari. They fell to the floor in a tangled mess of limbs and fabric which left them laughing. It was a stroke of luck that Madam Malkin's was closed, or she would've had something to say about all the noise. It was an even luckier thing that Madam Malkin did not live in the shop as some of the waspier clientele was sure to announce to anyone who would listen.

"George! Don't break my floor." George looked over to Padme who lay half on top of him and half on the floor.

"You saying I'm fat?" This caused the two of them to begin laughing all over again. By the time their laughter subsided to brief giggles and small chuckles, they had managed to bring their minds back to their original purpose of arriving at Padme's flat. George was the first one to make use of the reinforced and rediscovered knowledge. Just as most drunk kisses tended to be, it was sloppy. But seeing as Padme was just as drunk – perhaps even more so – it really didn't bother her. Despite the fact that it was a very sloppy kiss, there was still something about it that made her want to get closer to the man that she was half laying on top of.

His hands found their way to her shoulders. One taking the trip north to thread through her hair and hold her to him, the other heading south to trace the swell of her breasts – which were very cleverly hidden beneath the fabric of her sari – the curve of her side down to the rise of her hip. He grabbed her hip with a firm grasp only to roll them over so that he was on top of her. Much better, George was always happier on top.

She squeaked in drunken surprise at the movement, only to find her voice suddenly being used for other things as he began to attack her neck. Pulling at the fabric of her sari that lay over her shoulder, protecting her skin from the onslaught of his teeth and tongue. When the fabric wouldn't budge far enough to his satisfaction he made a frustrated noise that Padme would nearly have classified as a growl of frustration. "How the bloody hell do you get this thing off?" Other than Harry and Ron's dates to the Yule Ball, George had never seen a sari. Much less attempted to remove one. Padme giggled – a very rare sound indeed – before pushing him off and standing.

"It's really simple, once you know how…" Turning her back on him she began to walk towards her bedroom. As she walked – it was a very short walk – she pulled the pin from the fabric at her shoulder. Letting it drop to the floor behind her. By the time she got to her bedroom she had pulled the fabric from her shoulder and from her waist, folding it in the appropriate way. She'd taken her sari off many times while drunk, so it was an easy task. George had followed behind her, shedding his coat, vest and tie on the way.

The aftermath – though pleasurable as her cat would let her know with dirty looks for the next week – was a blur of liquor induced fog. As Padme slowly began to awaken she saw flashes of what had happened last night in her mind. A sari thrown here, a pair of pants there…skin against skin in all the right places. Breathy moans of each other's names. But aside from that, she couldn't remember much. Hell she could barely remember if it had been good. She hoped it was as she peeled herself out of her bed, wincing at the protest from her muscles. It had better of been good – she hurt like hell in all the tell-tale places of good sex.

Turning on the faucet in her bathroom she took a moment to try and wake herself up and get her body to relax. She was surprised to see a note written on the mirror in what looked like her favorite lip-gloss.

'_Padme,_

_It was great to see you at the wedding, and I had a great time._

_- George'_

Straightforward, simple, and a total waste of her lip-gloss! Padme was mad, but that usually came along with her hangovers. Holding her head she turned the faucet off. Deciding that it was best to go back to bed for the next 12 – 18 hours, until her hangover was gone and the memory of her one-night stand was gone with it.

"Padme!" Padme pulled the blanket up to cover her head.

"Padme!" She curled herself into the fetal position, trying not to even breathe.

"Padme!" She pulled a pillow under the blanket with her and put it over her head, hoping to drown out the sound.

"Padme Booth, if you do not open this door right this instant I will inform every one of just exactly whom you brought home with you last night!" That got her up.

"Just hold your horses there Fleur. Give a girl a second." She opened the door, wrapped in her blanket, and proceeded to curl up on her couch, wishing it was her bed.

"Good afternoon." Fleur sat down in the chair opposite Padme with a grin the size of China on her face.

"Who said it was good?"

"I did. You finally got laid – albeit with my brother in law, but I can overlook that so long as you don't give me any details." Padme grimaced.

"First, I don't remember much I was so liquored up. Second, thanks for letting me take George home when I was that liquored up. Three, I don't give you details anymore because I don't want that reciprocated. I can hardly look at Bill without cringing. Four, can you stop talking so loudly? My hair hurts." Fleur crouched down in front of Padme with a soft sigh, rubbing her hair gently.

"It seemed like you two were getting…" Fleur remembered the way the two had argued and then gotten markedly closer as they got drunker through the reception. "Along."

"We weren't getting _along_ we were getting handsy." Padme sighed. Well it wasn't her first drunken sex mistake. But she still hadn't done it that often – most of the times someone came back with her for drunken sex, they both ended up passed out.

"Along, handsy. Potato, tomato." Fleur shrugged. Padme looked at her with a bewildered look.

"I understand you're French, Fleur. But really? The saying is potato, _potahto_, tomato, _tahmato_. Not potato, tomato." Padme couldn't help but smile at her friend who was grinning like an idiot.

"Asshole." Fleur began to laugh at her friend and nearly began to cry at the look on Padme's face.

"You are so predictable! Give you something to critique and you snap out of your hung-over state like Bill snaps out of cleaning when I take my shirt off!" While Padme had been laughing she immediately grimaced at the thought of Bill cleaning and Fleur taking off her clothes to get his attention. Reaching a hand out from under her blanket she shoved Fleur in the shoulder, causing Fleur to land flat on her ass. This of course only made Fleur laugh harder.

"Dear baby small things Fleur! I did not need to know that Bill cleaning gets you hot!"

"I never said that…but what woman doesn't get a little hot when her man is cleaning up? They do it so rarely." Padme shuddered and retreated inside her blankets hoping to hide from the mental image which sadly followed her.

"You are a deplorable human being." This made Fleur laugh ever harder. It was probably wrong of her to laugh so much at her poor friend's state, but she just could not help herself. Padme was usually a very strong woman, but when she was hung-over she became utterly pathetic and needy. As well as easily taunted. Something that Fleur most certainly derived too much pleasure from.

"Okay, okay! I'll stop teasing you. Do you want some water?" Padme nodded her head beneath the blanket.

Fleur returned after a moment with the water, handing it over. This of course meant that Padme had to sit up to drink it. "My hair still hurts."

"I know sweetie. But let's not think about that. Tell me what happened with you and George. Not the details! I mean the other stuff." As much as Padme didn't like hearing about Bill who was just her friend's husband, Padme did not want to think about her brother-in-law getting it on with her friend.

"Nothing really happened, I mean other than the details I guess…I don't remember much. I was really drunk last night." Fleur shook her head in disapproval.

"Sweetie, you should always be sober enough to remember, just drunk enough to not have any inhibitions." Padme cringed.

"Thanks for the advice Fleur. I'll keep that in mind you French slut." She grinned as she insulted her friend.

"English twat! Now get back to it. Do you think you two will see each other again?"

"I doubt it. Unless it is in an ultimate fighting competition. I cannot stand that man."

"Except when drunk?"

"Those were hormones. I blame my hormones. I needed to get some and I got some. Now I can go back to hating the man." Padme sipped at her water trying to ignore Fleur's impossibly perceptive gaze.

"You obviously found him attractive enough to bring home last night." Padme's dark skin flushed as much as possible as she nearly spat out her water.

"Fleur!"

"I'm just saying dear. You brought him home, you had – I assume since you can't remember – sex with him, and hopefully you enjoyed it. Oh! You did enjoy it right? I mean sex without at least one orgasm is just plain wrong." Fleur became very matter of fact and looked at Padme hard. Just because she didn't want a blow by blow account – pardon the phrase – didn't mean she was ready to not know if Padme enjoyed herself.

Fleur was not a slut, but she did pride herself on her knowledge of sex and on having good sex. To coin a phrase from a muggle American television show – "She was a general of sex. She did not like to send her troops into battle unprepared." Besides, if George hadn't pleased her friend well then she'd just have to get him an instruction manual.

"Yes, yes, and I think. I don't know exactly, everything is still so fuzzy. Besides I was so drunk I wouldn't know if I'd had one or not." Truth be told – Padme had never had one. From sex anyway, or that was caused by a man.

"True. You were giggling like a school-girl last night."

"I was not!"

"Were too!"

The entire thing quickly devolved in laughter and useless name calling and finger pointing.

Bill was reading the Daily Prophet when there was a sudden 'pop' and the appearance of George. Bill barely looked up from his reading. Seemed that Fleur and George had just missed each other. Although that wasn't surprising since Fleur had never learned to apparate and had informed Bill several times that she was not okay with the idea of doing it. She preferred port-keys.

"Morning George!" He kept the decibels just beneath a yell since the rest of his family was still asleep, but it was loud enough to make George's step falter and crash into the coffee table as he walked.

"Keep it down, will ya?" George made an attempt to fix the coffee table, but decided against it after he just managed to make a bigger mess.

"Not my fault you drank too much, went home with Padme, and then stumbled home this early in the morning to avoid your parents' wrath at how drunk you were at the wedding. You're just lucky Ginny isn't here." He made room at the table for George, pouring him a coffee as he did so.

"They are your parents too."

"Yes, but they aren't mad at me." Bill grinned a very self-satisfied older sibling grin that he had mastered over the years.

"I know, I know. I screwed up. But I wasn't the only one who drank too much!" He'd been drinking just as much as everyone else in his family. Save Bill who never touched alcohol of any kind. The youngest of them all had gotten married. And it was the first really happy event since Fred had died and that had just made George even sadder.

"Maybe not, but you were the only one who went home with someone that only 2 hours previous you had been arguing with other whether or not you could pull out her chair for her." George put his head down on the table with a soft thunk.

"Were we really that bad?"

"No, actually you were worse. But I was hoping you wouldn't ask and I could just take pictures of Mum and Dad getting mad at you later."

"Thanks Bill, you're a real good brother."

"No, a good brother would have been here to meet you when you got home. An excellent brother – which I am in case you were wondering George – would be waiting here to meet you this morning with coffee. Which I did."

"I think a good brother would have kept me from going home with a woman who so obviously hates me, and I think an excellent brother would have not let me drink so much at all. So really, when you think about it – you're more like a mediocre brother." Bill glared at George.

"Should I wake up Mum then?"

"No!" If there was one thing that George still feared in his adult life, it was his Mum. Well, and his sister. Or worse yet his Mum and his sister.

"Then I'm an excellent brother." George grumbled something that Bill decided to take as an affirmative. Although for all he knew George was telling him to wear a hat on his ass. "So did you have a _good_ time with Padme?" George ran a hand down his face and sighed.

"I guess. I don't remember much – I was drunk off my ass. Although I do remember learning how to take a sari off. Not as hard as you'd think."

"Really? It looked complicated." George nodded, sipping at his coffee.

"I know, but really not so much. Pull a pin, unwind it a bit and then you're left with fairly normal clothes underneath." Bill nodded, tucking the information away. Not that he intended to ever take a sari off anyone other than his wife if she had occasion to wear it. There was no cheating on Fleur. Not just because he loved her, but he knew what a Veela could do when angered. Even if she was only part Veela, it was enough for him.

"Good to know." He went back to reading his paper, letting his brother sit in peace for a moment. The peace didn't last long though as he heard the tell-tale sounds of his parents getting up. "Well before Mum and Dad murder you for getting so drunk last night, do you think you'll see each other again?"

"No. She hates me. I made one comment about goblins and she hates me. I don't know how it happened, but she thinks I'm an ass. Why?"

"You are one. Besides, I just wanted to know if I should invite her to your funeral or not."

"Funeral?"

"GEORGE WEASLEY!" Molly Weasley came down the stairs and George wished the earth would swallow him whole.


	6. Happy New Year

_**A**_**uthor's Note;** So as promised in the last chapter, this one got posted fairly quickly after it since this one was almost done. I apologize again for the fact that I didn't realize that Chapter 5 had not posted properly. This chapter was a bit hard for me to write, trying to capture the chemistry between Bill and Fleur since it really isn't ever expanded on as much as I would have liked in either the books or the movies. So I hope that I haven't just shot your ideas of Bill and Fleur down in flames after this. I tried to write them as a bit lighter then they were in the series just because every time you saw them in the series they were doing something serious. Also - again if you have not already, please go to my profile and follow the URL to see the outfits worn for this chapter under the sub-album New Years 1999 in the album Laughter. If you don't wish to do that, then please use your imaginations, that is just what I imagined them wearing in my head while writing this chapter.

_**D**_**isclaimer; **I do not own anything in this chapter that you have seen in the Harry Potter series. I am making no money from this - unless you consider joy that people are enjoying this story money. Then yes, I am making money. I own all the original characters and works in this.

_**T**_**hanks; **Also I would like to thank everyone who has put this story on alert, and thank you to _crazy1person2you3been4warned_ for putting this on their favorites list. That means a lot - so thank you very much!

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_**December 23**__**rd**__**, 1999**_

"Bill, I really think that Padme and George have something." Fleur was sitting across from Bill in their living room and had supposedly been reading, but as the conversation as proving she hadn't. She'd been thinking about meddling.

"Honey, I think we've had this conversation six or seven times at this point." He sighed at the look he received from his wife. "And we're going to have it again. Okay, George says that she hates him."

"She does – her words." Seeing that the conversation was not going to be one that he could just shrug off he put his book down.

"Then why exactly are we having this conversation?" Fleur shook her head at him.

"Don't you remember what it was like when we first met honey?" Bill grinned a somewhat dirty grin. "Okay, I know what you thought when we first met you pig."

"You love it." Fleur grinned. It was true. She did love that he could be a filthy minded man at times. Made things exciting.

"Yes, but what I first thought when I met you. Well honestly honey, I hated you. You were rude and crass and blatantly sexual." Bill's face fell.

"I was not blatantly sexual. I was flirting! Our definitions of flirting are very different dear."

"That is what you took from that? I _hated_ you." She waited for it to dawn on him. He was either not getting it, she was speaking French again or he was being purposefully annoying. "_I _– Fleur, your wife – _hated _– as in despised – _you _– Bill Weasley."

"You hated me? Is that the point I'm supposed to get from that?" She glared at her husband, going so far as to throw the pillow off the chair beside her at his head with surprising accuracy. He'd been purposefully annoying. She'd never admit it to him, but it was one of the things she loved about him oddly enough.

"Yes!" He grinned and dodged the pillow just in time. He'd been being purposefully annoying. She'd never admit it, but he knew it was one of the things she loved about him.

"Okay, okay. So your point is that when we first met you hated me, and now we're married. Sweetie, I understand what you're trying to say…But I don't think that formula will work for Padme and George. She seems to truly hate him because of her view points. He insulted goblins, I'm going to guess by accident, and made her mad." He sighed. Grabbing the pillow he'd dodged he buried his face in it. He knew that look on his wife's face. She was going to get her way.

"I am inviting them for dinner for New Year's Eve."

"Both of them?" She nodded her head. "Honey, you do like our house right?"

"You know I do." He grabbed the hand that had reached for a scroll of parchment to write the letters to Padme and George.

"Then why are you just inviting trouble?" She waved him off and began her letters. After sending them, she received quick replies from both parties informing her that they would come. It was probably prudent to mention that she did not inform them that the other would be there as well. Otherwise they wouldn't have come. She didn't tell Bill. She knew he'd just be frustrated with her. And she had a lot of work on her hands to keep him from sending an owl to George to warn him.

_**December 31**__**st**__**, 1999**_

_**8:45 PM, the Cottage**_

Padme was running late. But it really wasn't her fault. She had been preoccupied…She couldn't even finish the thought. Anything about it made her want to stop and…Nope. Still couldn't do it. She was just down the "block" if you could call the beach that, from the Cottage where she was having New Year's Eve dinner with Fleur and Bill. She wasn't sure if she could go in there and face the music.

She didn't have much choice. If she didn't they would assume something was up since she had told them a week ago that she would be at the dinner. "Pull it together Padme!"

"Excuse me?" She looked up to see an elderly couple walking down the beach towards the water. She grinned and smiled.

"Sorry, talking to myself." The elderly witch stopped in front of her and patted her on the shoulder.

"Dear, it is perfectly fine to talk to yourself. But when you start answering back in a different voice, please go to St. Mungo's. That means there is a problem." Padme couldn't help it. She laughed. The old witch laughed too, but Padme laughed. It wasn't a particularly funny statement from the woman, but it made her laugh. So much so that she continued to laugh even after the couple had walked on. She laughed till she cried.

When she had finally stopped crying she stood up and adjusted her shawl around her shoulders. "Okay, let's do this." She nearly marched the rest of the way to Bill and Fleur's house. At exactly 8:51 pm she tapped her knuckles on the door. She was surprised that Bill opened it instead of Fleur.

"Padme, we were starting to think we might have to send out a search party for you!" He welcomed Padme into the house, taking her shawl and hanging it up by the door for her.

"Ah, no such luck Bill. You're stuck with me!" Even as she grinned she felt a sick feeling and she wondered for a moment if Bill could read her innermost fears written across her forehead. She had to stop herself from checking in the hall mirror.

"Well, damn. I was hoping to get my lovely wife all to myself tonight. But then she had to go and invite you two." He led the way into the cottage to a cozy living and kitchen area. She could see the dining room off in another room with what very obviously was Fleur in one chair and a mop of ginger hair across from Fleur.

"Two? Did you invite Ron or Charlie over for dinner too?" Bill frowned.

"Not exactly." Padme stopped in her track halfway through the living room.

"Define not exactly Bill. Not exactly Ron or not exactly Charlie?"

"Both."

Padme tried to keep her feet firmly planted on the ground instead of running like she wanted too. Oh Merlin how she wanted to run. She wanted to be anywhere but in that house. "So Percy then?"

"Not quite."

"Bill. So help me if you do not inform me this very instant who is sitting in that chair across from your wife I will pull out my wand and be forced to move all of the hair on your head to another place. One that you don't want to shave." She was reaching towards the pocket of her dress where her wand was slowly and Bill for one believed her. He was not an idiot.

"George." He closed his eyes in anticipation of a curse, or a hex or a jinx of some kind. Or the roof of the house blowing off. Or something. Anything! Nothing came. He opened his eyes to find Fleur standing in front of him with George beside her. Both looking at him like he was a brand new type of crazy.

"Bill?" He looked around like he'd lost a child before hearing the sound of retching come from down the hall.

"Padme?" He didn't answer them as he headed down the hall to find Padme hunched over the toilet, throwing up everything she was good for. She looked up from her retching to see Bill standing there with Fleur and George at his back. Upon seeing George she began to throw up again.

Fleur had to back up. She loved her friend dearly but the very sound of Padme retching was nearly enough to cause her to begin herself. She had never done well with the sound or smell that came along with the very unpleasant ordeal. Bill and George on the other hand, being two of a very large family were used to the occasional stomach aches and such, so they were on top of the entire thing.

Bill grabbed her hair and held it back from her face, smoothing the hair as he went in an attempt to comfort her. While they knew what to do, they had one sister. They were far better equipped to help a boy with their throwing up. Not a woman. George had grabbed a face cloth from the nearby towel rack and had wet it. Crouching down beside Padme who had yet to stop retching and had broken out in a sweat, he passed her the cloth.

"Put this over your mouth and try to breathe slowly Padme." He was sincere, and that was the only reason she didn't try to bite the hand that offered the cloth so to speak. She did her very best to try and calm down her breathing and somehow the cloth was helping her. She instinctively leaned into George, hoping that he would be able to calm her racing heartbeat.

Bill continued to smooth her hair and now that the retching was done and the evidence removed, Fleur entered the room too to kneel beside her and pat her face with another cool cloth. "Padme, sweetie. What happened? Are you okay?"

"No." It was barely more than a whisper behind the cloth as tears began to slide down her cheeks slowly. Marring her make-up. She looked vulnerable and tired. More than any of them had realized initially. "No. I'm not okay."

"What is it?" It was George who asked. Just because she hated him didn't mean that he hated her. Quite the contrary. She intrigued him, that and he wasn't in the habit of callously dismissing someone who was obviously not well. She shook her head and turned to begin retching again.

"I'm going to go get her some tea. Bill can you grab her some blankets from our bedroom, and set up the spare room for her." Fleur left to get the tea for Padme, and Bill left to do exactly what his wife had told him to do. Whether Padme liked it or not she was going to be taking a nap, dinner be damned. It sat forgotten on the dining room table anyway.

"Padme, what happened? Are you sick?" George held her as she finished retching and put the cloth over her mouth once more. She began to sob softly into his chest as she half lay on the bathroom floor.

_Padme had been sick. Sicker then she had ever been for the past two weeks. She'd finally given up trying to just will herself better and had gone to St. Mungo's to get a professional opinion of her problem. She'd sat in the waiting room for probably an hour before being called._

"_Ms. Booth? Yes, please follow me this way." The healer was a pretty little thing, barely taller than Padme's shoulders. She looked like a little pixie, but Padme didn't know if she would be angry at the comparison or appreciate it. Once they entered the exam room she motioned for Padme to sit on the table. "Now, what is the problem dear?"_

"_Honestly, I'm not sure. I've never been this sick before. But I can't eat, I can't hardly drink anything. I'm constantly throwing up and all I want to do is sleep. I'm using up all my vacation time from work at home being sick." The woman nodded, her quill taking down notes as Padme spoke while she herself checked out her patient. Her breathing was fine, pulse, heart rate, temperature – all of it was fine._

"_What are the chances that you might be pregnant dear?" Padme blushed – though it was hard to tell – and laughed nervously._

"_Slim. I haven't had sex in weeks and when I did it was…" She stopped, not sure how to put the wording together._

"_Don't worry dear, I know what you mean. Well chances are good that you aren't, but I'm going to throw that in just for good measure okay? You just wait here and I'll be back in a minute with a waiver for you to sign so that we can do the needed spells okay?" Padme nodded numbly and the minute the woman was gone, she was up on her feet pacing. Could she really be pregnant? She doubted it. No. Definitely not. Probably not._

"_Great I'm going to drive myself barmy at this rate. I'm not. There is no way I am. No. That was…" She began to count in her head the number of weeks just as the nurse walked in with the waiver form._

"_Okay dear, just sign this please and then I'll get straight to work." Seven weeks – that was how long it had been since she'd been with George. Give or take a few days that was. Almost two months. So no, there was no way that she was…_

"_Congratulations dear! You're pregnant, about six weeks along." Padme had promptly fainted._

"Yes…No."

"Which is it?" Padme looked up at George with a heavy sigh. There was no doubting that the little parasite – as she had begun to call it – growing inside her was George's.

"I'm pregnant, and it's yours."


End file.
